


Princess

by Josselin



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 00:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: “Who would have thought I’d encounter you at a place like this?” Govart chortled slightly.“You’ll be thrown out of the Guard for being in a brothel unchaperoned,” Laurent said.Govart was still smiling. “Whatever happens to me will be far less than what happens to you,” he said. “But perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement.”





	Princess

Prince Laurent of Vere was was a second son, and widely acknowledged to be spoiled. His father, Aleron, had favored his first son and heir. Their mother had favored Laurent and indulged him. Crown prince Auguste was similarly indulgent of his younger brother, who was born when he was already twelve. After both of their parents had passed from a fever that swept through the capital when Laurent was only ten, Auguste’s attention was distracted from his brother to his kingdom. Auguste was a beloved and fair king. By the time he was sixteen, Laurent was an extra pair of eyes for his brother, a spare heir for his parents, and was a pampered prince. 

Much of Laurent’s time was spent gadding around the court, attending entertainments, pretending to be more intoxicated than he was and flirting with courtiers.

But that grew boring to Laurent, sometimes, and he also had a habit of sneaking away from the palace at Arles. He liked to go into the city. He would dress as a merchant and wear a giant hat with a feather and walk around the market. He liked frequenting the baker’s stalls and eating pastries and talking to the bakers. He visited with horse merchants from Kempt and inspected the horses. He walked through the lane of the glovemakers and tried on finely-stitched leather gloves.

And occasionally, he donned a dress, and a veil, and perhaps a bit of kohl around his eyes, and went down to the city with a different type of disguise. He liked to hear how the women talked as they compared hats and purchases, how young women speculated about courting and romance, how older women talked about the weather and whether the crops would be good this year. 

It wasn’t seemly, for a prince to behave so. He shouldn’t really leave the palace; he should have a chaperone. But Auguste paid little attention to his behavior and Laurent was confident in his ability to twist his brother around his finger if an indiscretion was ever called to his attention, and over the years his thirst for adventure drew him to more and more daring escapades.

It was one of the first cool days of autumn when Laurent had put on a blue dress and visited one of the brothels in the east quarter. It was scandalous, of course, but little different, it seemed than when he sat in the pet quarters at the palace and listened to the boys compare fabrics or gauge the worth of jewels or share techniques for gold paint. Prostitutes sat in the main room. Visitors came. Noble ladies, merchant wives, and the occasional bold man willing to risk the disrepute, and after making arrangements with the maitresse and turning over a suitable quantity of gold, the guest would go off with one of the house women to one of the back rooms.

Laurent had sat behind a decorative fan for much of the afternoon. By the time it was beginning to be evening, he turned to put his fan back into his handbag, intending to slip out the back and head back to the palace. 

Someone seated themselves next to Laurent on his bench. 

“Excuse me,” Laurent said lightly, keeping his eyes lowered and ready to duck out.

A large hand clamped down around his forearm. 

“Your highness,” said a gruff voice.

Laurent looked up sharply, to recognize Govart, one of the worst of his brother’s guards. There was a smile slowly growing on the guard’s face.

“Who would have thought I’d encounter the prince at a place like this?” Govart chortled slightly. 

“Excuse me?” said Laurent, preparing to deny everything. “I don’t know--”

Govart wasn’t buying it. “Or should I call you princess?”

Laurent gave up on deception. “You’ll be thrown out of the Guard for being in a brothel unchaperoned,” he said. 

Govart was still smiling. “Whatever happens to me will be far less than what happens to you,” he said. Govart’s grip remained firm on Laurent’s forearm. “But perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“Arrangement,” said Laurent, his tone flat.

“Is it true,” said Govart conversationally, “that really no one has gotten a leg over you?”

It was true, though Laurent was hardly going to say that. He said nothing.

Govart took his silence as an affirmative. “That might be worth something.”

Laurent pursed his lips. “Worth your silence?”

Govart smiled again. “If you moan sweetly enough.”

The younger prince and the guard came to an understanding about their “arrangement.” Laurent would permit Govart to take his virginity, and then neither of them would reveal the other having been found in this compromising circumstance.

Laurent had watched, all afternoon, as women moved from the common room to one of the back rooms, with a guest following quickly behind him. 

He rose to do the same, Govart’s hand still grasping his forearm.

Laurent was still thinking, as he walked through the common room and through the hallway, of an alternative. Of some other blackmail to arrange to keep Govart’s tongue from wagging. Of some distraction to permit him to sneak away. Some story he could use to deny Govart’s accusations. Of who among the court he could persuade to offer him an alibi. 

Alternatives did not immediately present themselves, and Govart closed the door behind them in one of the back rooms and laughed a little bit. 

“This was such a lucky night,” said Govart.

Laurent did not feel the same way. He turned around to face Govart. 

“I’m going to rough you up,” said Govart. His voice was anticipatory. 

“Not on my face,” said Laurent, thinking of how he wouldn’t be able to disguise any such marks in court the next day, but Govart only laughed. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Laurent eyed Govart. He still felt uncertain about the plan; he was still thinking about alternatives. Was he truly going to obey a command from a guard? And yet, did he have another way to avoid what was going to happen if Govart talked about what he had seen? Laurent undressed slowly. He removed the scarf he’d been wearing on his head and folded it and set it aside, and then he unlaced his kirtle and pulled it over his head and set it on top of the scarf. He had a plain sheath dress on underneath it, and he proceeded to unlace that as well, and pulled it off over his head as well. 

Govart was not bothering to undress. He had only unlaced his trousers far enough to get his hand inside, and was stroking himself. Laurent was wearing only a shift and a petticoat. He glanced over at Govart and the motion of his hand.

“You want a good look at that?” said Govart, using his hand to present himself. 

Laurent turned away deliberately, refusing to look. 

“That’s okay, you’ll feel it later,” said Govart.

Laurent removed his final layers and set them on top of his other clothing. The room was a bit chilly without any clothing, and he shivered.

“You should suck me,” said Govart, still stroking himself, drawing his hand slowly up and down the shaft of his cock. 

Laurent kept his eyes on the guard’s face, refusing to look. “No,” he said, flatly. 

“You’ll want to make it wet for yourself,” said Govart. 

Laurent shook his head. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Have to prepare the plow before putting a furrow in the field. You’re just making it hard for yourself.”

Laurent met his eyes evenly. “It’s a brothel,” he said, and reached for a jar of oil that was sitting prominently close to the bed.

Govart finally gave up on the idea of convincing Laurent to perform oral sex with a shake of his head. “Bend over the bed,” he said. 

Laurent turned, slowly, and stood in front of the foot of the bed. He spread his feet to be slightly wider than his hips for balance, and then bent forward slightly and rested his palms on the worn bedspread.

He shivered. There was no fire lit in this chamber, and the autumn air had a chill. He wasn’t aroused, but he felt something vaguely anticipatory or nervous building in his stomach, the same sort of feeling he’d felt watching his brother on the field of a battle as the two lines of men with weapons drawn ran at each other across the ground.

“This is a good look for you, princess,” said Govart. Govart took three steps to stand behind where Laurent was standing next to the bed, and then Laurent felt large hands on his buttocks. Govart’s hands were warm in the chill of the room, vaguely clammy against Laurent’s skin, and then they exerted a pressure, spreading Laurent and looking at his hole. Laurent closed his eyes.

Govart moaned appreciatively. “Looks tight,” he said. 

One of the hands on Laurent’s buttocks was gone, and then there was a finger suddenly pressing at his opening, without oil or gentleness. Laurent flinched, slightly, and then braced himself again. Govart pressed the finger further inside, burying his first knuckle within Laurent. 

Laurent bit his lip and concentrated on remaining still. Govart’s finger felt like an insult. It wasn’t precisely comfortable, but more offensive than the feeling of the single finger within him was the idea of it, the notion that this commoner dared to touch him in that way. Govart wiggled his finger within Laurent, and with no finesse. He had none of the delicate motions pets used to teach each other in a performance or applied with grace to please their masters. Govart dug his finger into Laurent as though he were a farmer making a small hole for to plant a seed, and with no care for the ground where he was placing it.

The finger slipped a bit deeper. Laurent could feel the rest of Govart’s hand, resting against his ass, and Govart’s finger probed him indelicately. A small noise escaped Laurent, and Govart grunted in satisfaction. 

“Stop wiggling,” said Govart. “You’ll get it soon enough.”

“Shut up,” said Laurent.

The finger within him didn’t move, but Govart’s other hand left it’s position on Laurent’s thigh and then came down hard on his ass with a loud strike. Laurent flinched again, falling a handspan closer to the bedding before he was able to brace himself up again on his arms. 

“I told you to stop moving,” said Govart, sounding annoyed. He removed his finger. “Get up on the bed.”

Laurent moved slowly onto the bed, as though by keeping his movements controlled and deliberate it were less humiliating how he was following all of Govart’s instructions. Govart followed, kneeling behind him. Govart moved Laurent around a bit on the bed, positioning him, or placing a hand with increasing pressure until Laurent moved accommodatingly as he directed. When Govart was finished, Laurent was arranged with his head down and his buttocks raised, his hands stretched out on the bedding in front of him and his face lowered between his arms. 

Laurent felt especially conscious of the difference in size between the two of them. At sixteen, Laurent hoped to still gain a couple of inches in height. He did not seem likely to surpass Auguste’s stature, but he might come close to it by the time he hit twenty, he thought, though he was still half a head shorter than his brother at present. Govart was a large man, with the bulk of a man in his thirties who performed hard labor in the palace guard and wasn’t careful with how he ate. He was tall and broad across the shoulders. He might have been twice Laurent’s weight on the bed.

Govart placed one hand on Laurent’s back, holding him in place. Laurent closed his eyes, expecting Govart’s finger to probe him again, but instead, he felt Govart’s palm come down again on his ass. Govart struck one buttock, twice, thrice, until Laurent could feel it stinging and warm in the cool air, and then he struck the other side until it felt the same. 

They were open-hand strikes, and Laurent lectured himself in his head about he had endured worse. Auguste forced him into sessions with the palace swordmaster, and one fall on his behind while practicing his defense was worse than the blows that Govart was administering. The worst part of it was the humiliation, the way his face felt almost as red as he was sure his behind was, and how occasionally a sound slipped out of him despite his attempts to muffle it.

“You like that,” Govart said.

Laurent refused to dignify that with a response. It wasn’t that he liked it; anyone would respond to that kind of sensation. It was like how boys often became aroused while riding a horse. 

“You’ll like my cock more.”

Govart shifted around on the bed. The mattress was straw, and not of very good quality, so Laurent had to balance carefully as Govart moved to avoid tipping over. Govart settled behind him. Laurent could feel his body between Laurent’s legs. He spread Laurent’s legs further apart to give himself space, and his bulk rested against Laurent’s thighs. Govart was still dressed, so Laurent could feel the leather of his trousers against his thighs, and the brush of Govart’s unclothed cock against his ass.

Laurent felt unready. He resisted the notion of Govart actually taking him, somehow, and he did not feel prepared. Yet at the same time, he was sick of this humiliation, and he wanted the whole encounter to be over. Once Govart stuck his cock inside, he would fuck Laurent for a minute or so, and then it would be finished, and Laurent could leave. There was nothing to be done at this point except endure, and finish with the whole business as rapidly as possible. 

Laurent tried to reassert some control over the situation. “Oil,” he said. 

Govart grabbed the vial of oil from where it had dropped on the bed, and Laurent could hear Govart slicking himself. Govart smeared his hand on Laurent’s ass, leaving a large oily handprint. Laurent shuddered a little.

He heard Govart spit, behind him, and then he felt it drop onto his buttocks, rolling down toward his hole. Govart spit again, with slightly better aim. Laurent felt as though his face were on fire and he closed his eyes in embarrassment. There was a pressure against his hole, and Laurent expected it to be Govart’s finger, with the oil, but it was a different sensation. He turned his head to look, but the angle was wrong, and then he realized it was the end of the vial of oil. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” said Laurent.

Govart snickered. “Am I?”

“The oil comes out the other end--if you take the cork off.” Laurent’s tone was snide, as though Govart were truly foolish enough to not understand how the tiny corked vial worked, and not simply trying to draw this out.

“Do you think it’s really necessary?” said Govart, easing the base of the vial in an inch or so and drawing it out again. 

“Yes, oil me,” said Laurent firmly, turning his face back to the bed. 

He felt the vial removed, and then he heard the cork popped out of the top of it, but then he felt the glass of the vial again, and he also felt flooded and slick. Govart had stuck the open side of the vial into him this time, and the angle of it was spilling oil inside of Laurent and it was dribbling out over the edge as well. 

“Did I get it right this time?” said Govart mockingly. 

“Get on with it.” 

Laurent felt a pressure against his hole, and he thought--this is it. But he realized after a moment from the feeling of Govart’s hand against him that it was only his thumb, pressing inside, sloppy with all of the oil. Even his thumb was large and uncomfortable inside Laurent.

“Half the court wants to be in here,” Govart muttered, poking at him again.

That was true. It might have even been an understatement, and the popularity of discussion of Laurent’s budding sexual presence in the court was half of why he had declined all of his previous offers. He was regretting that now, just as he was regretting the entire afternoon’s escapade. But it seemed like it would have been better to take a pet or follow Etienne back to his rooms or something, and have already dispensed with this months before, and not be here, pressed against poor quality bedclothes in a brothel, waiting for Govart of all people to get on with it. 

The pressure of Govart’s thumb was gone, and Govart shifted behind Laurent again, and then the head of his cock was pressing up against Laurent. Laurent tightened defensively; he couldn’t stop himself. Govart’s cock slipped messily and oily against him.

Govart grunted, and the pressure was firmer. Laurent panted against his own arm. Govart’s cock caught a little against the rim of Laurent’s hole, and Govart used that to shove it a bit, and then the head was in. 

Laurent cried out and pressed his mouth against his own arm to stifle the noise.

“That’s right, princess,” Govart said, sounding satisfied. “I knew you’d like it.” He had his hands on Laurent’s hips, now, and he pushed in deeper.

It hurt more than Laurent was expecting. He felt himself tightening up again around Govart, which he knew was exactly the wrong response, but he wasn’t able to exert enough control over his own body to just relax. A small part of him wanted to tell Govart to stop, or to wait for Laurent to adjust, or to try to inch away on the bed to relieve the pressure. But Laurent was proud enough to ignore all of those impulses. He breathed heavily into his arm, closed his eyes to keep them from watering, and said nothing.

Govart wouldn’t have cared anyway. He did not seem at all interested in waiting for Laurent to adjust, and in fact, was talking excessively about how much he was enjoying how tight Laurent was. Govart pushed in further, with short little thrusts, each carving deeper into Laurent’s body. 

One particular thrust hit a particularly sensitive place inside Laurent. Laurent mewled, and then Govart seemed to thrust at the same spot over and over again, tormenting Laurent and taunting him all at once.

“That’s all you needed,” said Govart, hitting the spot again. “Big cock to open you up, get rid of that bitchy expression on your face.” He found a terrible rhythm of thrusting three times, then pausing to talk. “The whole court could tell you’d just been gagging for it, princess.” The next thrust did something inside Laurent and somehow managed a bit deeper. Laurent winced. “You should have come to me years ago,” said Govart.

Laurent’s eyes were watering. His hole felt red and sensitive. He felt turned inside out, hammered by Govart like a sword in a blacksmith’s forge. Laurent had seen pets take a cock with a satisfied expression, as though it were scratching an itch and pleasing. And he couldn’t imagine it. There was a pleasure to it somehow that he didn’t want to acknowledge, but it was awkward and disgusting and painful and he didn’t like how it felt like Govart was plowing deeply into him.

Also, it went on for a long time. When he had seen women take men to the back rooms it did not seem like it went on like this. 

He couldn’t help himself, and after a while, he decided he couldn’t tolerate it any longer and he reached his arms back to try to push at Govart behind him, bucking to try to get Govart off of him. But the result was just that Govart could grab at his arms and get hold of his elbows, which tipped Laurent even more awkwardly onto his face on the bed, and allowed Govart leverage to pull him back more firmly onto his cock.

Laurent moaned. His shoulders hurt, from how Govart was pulling him back. His ass was sore and painful when Govart thrust into him.

Then, Govart pulled out too far, and his cock slipped out, and he angled along Laurent’s backside instead, his cock brushing against Laurent’s balls in a strangely pleasurable sensation.

Govart swore, and let go of one of Laurent’s arms, and used his free hand to thumb at Laurent’s sensitive hole.

Govart seemed to change his mind, let go of Laurent’s arms, grabbed Laurent’s hips, and flipped Laurent onto his back on the bed.

Laurent felt exposed, suddenly. The tear tracks on his face were visible. His cheeks were red. His mouth was half-open. His cock was half-hard and thick lying against his thigh.

He could see Govart now, and the guard had a smug expression. “Tell me you want me to put it in you again.”

“Fuck you,” said Laurent.

“No, fuck you, sweetheart,” said Govart. “But only when you say you want it.”

“I hope you die,” said Laurent, sincerely. 

“I’d hate to see a tale spread around the court,” Govart trailed off musingly.

Laurent glared at him. Govart waited. His thumb was lazily playing with Laurent’s hole in a way that made Laurent shudder.

Finally, after a long and drawn out moment, Laurent said, “Fuck me.”

“What was that?” Govart raised a hand to his ear, miming listening.

Laurent kicked at him. Govart caught his leg. Govart leaned over Laurent, keeping his hold on Laurent’s leg and grabbing the other one, and bending both of them back toward Laurent’s face. He rested his weight on Laurent and left Laurent slightly out of breath. Then, using his hand to position himself, he pushed into Laurent again.

Laurent whimpered, and bit his lip, and then told himself not to do either of those things, because he could feel Govart watching him in this new position, and he felt self-conscious about the eyes on him.

The fucking felt different, in this position, and, by accident, Govart managed an angle that started to rouse Laurent further. The interest Laurent’s cock had in the thrusts at that particular angle did not escape Govart’s notice. Govart smirked.

“You’re so desperate for it,” said Govart. “This is the right position for you. On your back and stuffed with cock.” He thrust again. “Touch yourself.”

Laurent kept his hands where they were clenched in the sheets at his sides.

Govart slowed. “Touch yourself, or I won’t finish.”

Laurent opened his eyes to glare. “Suit yourself,” he said.

“You like it that much,” said Govart. “You want to just stay all night, warming my cock inside you--”

Laurent lost the battle of wills they were having and raised his hand to his cock. He stroked himself defiantly. He started rough and fast, in a manner he knew was unlikely to cause him to finish, as though that were some small rebellion against what Govart was directing.

But as Govart began fucking him again, he lost himself and gave up on making it bad and was more seriously pursuing his own finish. Laurent started to lose himself in the physical sensations of what was happening. He tightened his hand on his cock. He felt the pressure inside of him on that deliciously sensitive place. Even the strain he felt, the stretch of the position he was folded into, the difficulty of catching his breath, the burn in his hole from how he’d been opened up, even that added to it, and he came, closing his eyes and crying out and cupping his hand around his cock as he spilled into his fist.

He ignored Govart’s words after. Govart was talking about how Laurent loved it. How he got off on it. He deserved it. It was what he was made for.

He focused instead on the physical sensation of Govart still fucking him. He observed the weight of Govart’s body on his. After his orgasm he felt even more sensitive inside, somehow, and yet Govart’s thrusts were harder than ever, jerking and pushing inside of him.

The energy of the thrusts was pushing Laurent up the bed, sliding against the sheets, and Govart stopped every so often to tug him back down, repositioning him so Govart’s cock could get deeper inside of him again.

Finally, Govart finished, with a series of grunts and hard thrusts and then a pulsing warmth inside of Laurent’s body. Laurent thought, “Finally.”

Govart collapsed on top of him, still buried in his body, making no effort to move. 

Laurent waited, and then he began to squirm a bit under Govart.

Govart grunted. “Be still.”

Laurent didn’t understand what was happening. When he had watched, at the brothel, men were usually out the door by now, and the women were counting their coins.

Then, Laurent felt a strange warmth pulsing within him. 

For a moment, he thought that Govart was somehow orgasming again. But it was going on too long and the stream was steadier, and suddenly Laurent realized that Govart was relieving himself inside of Laurent’s body.

He was shocked. Govart had been looking down at him, and recognized Laurent's moment of realization with a cruel smirk. Laurent pushed at Govart above him with renewed vigor, rolling under him and trying to edge away.

Govart just laughed, finishing. “Don’t make a mess,” he said. He sat back on his knees and Laurent could see his cock, large and softening and dripping. Govart dropped his hold on Laurent’s legs, and Laurent let them lower to the bed, and he could feel wetness dripping out of him. 

Govart looked pleased with himself. He wiped his cock with a sheet cursorily and then tucked it back in his pants. He was still dressed while Laurent was naked and filthy on the bed.

“Remember we had an agreement,” Laurent said. 

Govart made no acknowledgement, standing by the door. “Come find me the next time you need cock, princess.”


End file.
